


What Broken Hearts Are Made Of

by ImogenSmiley



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 52 Week Oneshot Challenge, Angsty thoughts, Canon Compliant, Doubt, Established Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Established Iwaoi, Established Relationship, Losing, Loss, M/M, Oneshot, Post THAT Match, Regrets, Seijoh Centric, Support, blame, failure - Freeform, mutual love and support, nuances, soft, you know the one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-02-23 07:24:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23907907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImogenSmiley/pseuds/ImogenSmiley
Summary: The captain and the ace are the two members of a team that need to master keeping face. There is no time to be explicit and forthcoming with your emotions when fifty points, minimum, can stand between success and failure. Between a win and a loss.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Kudos: 14





	What Broken Hearts Are Made Of

**Author's Note:**

> How is it Wednesday already? How have there already been eighteen Wednesdays so far this year? My head is spinning! But, I have written another oneshot for the 52 Week Oneshot Challenge, inspired by the post Karasuno vs Seijoh match in Season 2 of Haikyuu! 
> 
> No I'm not over it, yes I'm emotional. But, I hope that you enjoy what I have written to help deal with the loss!

The captain and the ace are the two members of a team that need to master keeping face. There is no time to be explicit and forthcoming with your emotions when fifty points, minimum, can stand between success and failure. Between a win and a loss.

As promised, Oikawa treated the entire Aoba Josai First Team to ramen after the game. He would have done it win or lose, but it seemed they needed the time together more than anyone cared to admit. A team didn't stop being a team off the court.

His wallet wept as he declared he would pay the table's tab, and everything was on him. But there were worse things to be doing after a loss. If Iwa-chan could have his way, he would be in his bedroom, music on full-blast, crying into his pillow to muffle the sound of his disappointment. It seemed, though, that the longer the boys were out, the less forced the ace's smile was. It was fractional but it was enough.

Oikawa had cast glances to Iwaizumi over the noodles while the team chatted amongst themselves. A group of rowdy boys, raising overflowing frothing cups of soda in a toast to missed opportunity and learning for the future. It didn't feel right for the crestfallen captain and he was sure that the other third years knew if nobody else. But regardless of whether Hanamaki and the others knew, he knew that the ace did. Iwa-chan was in the same boat. Maybe it was because he felt the same way. But Iwa-chan didn't fail. He didn't miss the final receive. This wasn't on him, but his eyes were glassy and his voice was broken. The smiles he shared and words he said were genuine enough, but Oikawa knew.

Oikawa knew. He'd seen that same look on Iwa-chan's face dozens of times through the years, the hearty, kind eyed boy had grown into the backbone of a team. But the backbone was nothing without the connecting limbs and muscles. Oikawa knew his place, he was to hold the team in place, embracing the backbone and allowing each organ to perform its role. If Iwa-chan was the backbone, Oikawa was the ribcage, embracing the team for all its functions and flaws.

Iwa-chan excused himself for a trip to the bathroom three times throughout the meal, as did Hanamaki. Hell, all of the third years disappeared a few times, but none seemed to want to go home. They had so much pent up energy. And they'd just had an outlet snatched from them by that plucky Number Ten from Karasuno.

Oikawa ground his teeth as he smiled, taking Iwa-chan by the hand and dragging the team from the ramen restaurant onto a karaoke parlour. The rest of the team had followed them, of course. They always did.

He threw a fistful of yen at the clerk and strode into the first empty room. If they couldn't spike half a dozen volleyballs into the corners of the court, then what was the point? Why not just play air guitar aggressively? Why not distract one another with awful cat-like singing? Oikawa for one, seriously couldn't carry a tune with a backing beat but it was fun enough. And after the mess of his receive, he might as well continue to make a fool out of himself.

They found themselves actually going home after the second session renewal, vocal chords strained and throats hoarse from the day's antics. But even then, Oikawa didn't leave Iwaizumi's side.

He knew him too well. As they stood at the crossroads that divided their houses, Oikawa looked at his best friend, his boyfriend, his ace, and called his name.

"Iwa-chan," his breath hitched.

"...Oikawa..."

"I'm sorry, Iwa-chan."

The dark haired boy tensed, spinning on his heel. He narrowed his eyes and stared at his childhood best friend. Oikawa had his head down, doing his best to avoid eye contact. But his trembling lip was tell enough.

"What do you have to be sorry for Trashykawa?"

Iwaizumi took a step closer to the captain and pulled him into a firm embrace, both of their chests heaved as they finally allowed the waterworks to be free of glassy eyes. While bracing one another, with bucking knees and trembling bodies, they wept beneath a crestfallen sky. Somewhere, on the other side of town the moon would be smiling on the victors, but once again, they found themselves howling with the wind.

They'd always said that it would be different next time. They'd get the next time. no matter who stood in their way, they'd bring them to their knees. But they'd run out of chances.

"There won't be more tournaments. We lost. We were so close-"

"It wasn't your fault; you couldn't have expected to land that receive off a one-touch."

"And it wasn't yours either!"

They hadn't noticed the door to Oikawa's family home opening, and a slight, mousey haired woman, just a few years their senior walking onto the street. After a sharp intake of breath, she produced a phone from her back pocket and typed a message. She shook her head, her bob swishing as she strode to their sides and took hold of the two boys, clasping their hands and dragging them inside. They trudged along, both still weeping. But at least they were warm, and home safe.


End file.
